Tell Me What You Want, What You Really Really Want

You know you were raised in the 90's if you sang the title of this post in your head and remembered which Spice Girl you always pretended to be.

This is not a real post.

This is more just a post where I write a bunch of pointless shit, all leading up to the one thing I actually came here to say, and then leave you all unsatisfied and let down, like Diet Coke and salads do to me every. single. time. 

I'm in a weird mood.

Maybe I'm just upset because I stayed up late the last two nights trying to finish this book I was reading, that started out so beautiful and well written, and then last night ended in a flaming pile of non-sensical shit. I feel betrayed. That was not an ending, I said at the back cover of the book, mean mugging the picture of the author as she sat in a shaft of light, probably in some Manhattan apartment on a Monday afternoon. She didn't respond to my rage, so I threw her and her book across the room and had some popcorn. 

It helped a little, I'm OK. Not fine, but OK.

Maybe I'm upset because I hate cleaning, and my landlord is coming over this weekend, so I like....have to.

I don't know. 

What I really came here for, was to ask you, all of you lovely readers, whoever you are, to tell me what you want. 

What do you want to see more of, here in my crazy little corner of the internets?

What kind of posts do you find here that make you go "Yes! I love when she posts about this!"

You can tell me which kind of posts I do that make you want to punch babies or never come back to the blog ever, but I'd appreciate it if you said it nicely, maybe whilst also offering me a baked good of some kind.

I'm a sensitive soul.

Anyhow, hit me up, tell me what you want, and I'll do my best to make it happen.

This blog is still mine, of course, and I'm still writing more or less for me, but I also have these weird spurts of massive creativity block, and a little inspiration is much, much appreciated.

Leave your requests in the comments, or send that shit here: preciousbabybelly@gmail.com

I know, I have a fucking weird ass email address. I used to be a doula, remember?!

While you're thinking about it, here are some pictures of cute animals to help you think: